


Birthdays

by cats_eye78



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, kind of but not really underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats_eye78/pseuds/cats_eye78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few pre-series shorts about the brothers birthdays that have been hanging about in my computer.  Some SFW some NSFW.  Warnings will change as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam's 5th birthday

                                                Sam’s 5th birthday  
   
* _thought_ *  
   
Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  
   
Dean pov   
            May 2 1988.  
   
            Sammy wanted a puppy for his fifth birthday and that’s exactly what Dean got him.  Unfortunately he didn’t ask their father for permission first.   
             
Dean knew he was in trouble when the principle called their father after his fourth grade teacher found the aforementioned puppy in his backpack.  He knew having Bill bring the thing to school was a bad idea but Bill lived about twenty-five miles away from their apartment and this was the only way Dean could think of getting the pup without Sammy knowing.  He followed quietly when his father told him they were going home.  When he got in the car he started, “I’m sorry dad, but Sammy wanted a dog and I thought,”  
             
“You thought what, Dean?  That you’d just show up and say ‘look what followed me home’, I don’t think so.  Who was gonna take care of it while you boys were at school and I’m hunting or working?  Did you even think about that?  No, I bet you didn’t.  Sammy just gave you those eyes and you promised the moon.”   
             
“Sorry, sir.”  
             
John looked at his eldest son, expression softening slightly, “I know you meant well, son, but you have to ask me first before you do anything like this.  Now I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta return this pup.”  
             
Dean knows not to argue but can’t help the flash of resentment.  _I traded my Metallica tapes for that puppy._   “But then what can I give Sammy?”  
             
“Tell you what; you think he’ll like a big stuffed dog?  ‘Cause we could go pick him one out after we drop off fido.”  
             
Dean readily agrees and they get a three foot tall stuffed dog.  When they pick Sam up from kindergarten the dog is waiting in the back seat.  When Sammy sees it his eyes go huge, “Dean you got me a dog!  Just like you promised!”  Dean finds himself tackled by an ecstatic little brother and decides it was totally worth the tapes.

 

 

Sam pov 

            May 2, 1988.  
   
            Sam spent all day thinking about the puppy Dean promised to get him.  During art time he drew puppies and his brother standing in the sun.  It wasn’t until recess that his bubble was burst, when he told a boy in his class about the future Winchester dog he was regaled with stories about what the boy’s pup had chewed and the messes it made and shoes it ate.  Sammy worried that he would get Dean in trouble, ‘cause he knew dad would get mad if the dog ate his boots.  He was just about to beg Dean not to get the dog when he saw the giant stuffed animal in the backseat.  
             
“Dean you got me a dog!  Just like you promised!”  He happily tackled his big brother.  _Dean’s the smartest, best brother ever!  He knew a real dog would make dad mad and this one won’t make messes and wow Dean’s awesome!_   He beamed up at his brother while clutching the dog.  _Best brother ever_!


	2. Chapter 2

                                                  Dean’s 15th birthday    

_*thought*_  

Disclaimer: I own nothing.    

Dean's POV

            January 24, 1994  

            Warm, wet heat engulfed his cock; sucking, licking, teasing.  His whimper when that mouth released him changed to a moan when it suckled his balls.  He wrapped his fingers in shaggy brown hair, toes curling as the mouth fastened again on his shaft.  He came with a growl when he was taken to the hilt and that damn mouth hummed.  A whispered, “Happy Birthday” against his stomach and the mouth was gone.

            _Hmm, good dream, best blowjob ever._ Dean tried to place the shaggy hair that was all he saw of the girl going down on him.  Unable to, he mentally shrugged as he stretched and poked his brother.

            “Wake up Sammy.  I want pancakes.”  He cocked open an eye, watching an unruly mop of hair precede a glaring preteen out of bed.

            “You want pancakes, you make them,” came the rough voiced response.

            “But Sammy, it’s my birthday!”  Dean smirked up at Sam.

            “Oh, all ri,” In mid word a coughing fit overcame him and Dean worriedly pounded his back.

            “Hey, you alright little brother?”  Dean held Sam’s face, concerned.

            “Yeah.  I just got something caught at the back of my throat.  Go take your shower and your stupid pancakes will be ready when you get out.”  Sam huffed as he left the bedroom.

            Dean decided a nice long shower with a rerun of that dream was in order.  When he exited the bedroom he shared with his brother he saw breakfast laid out for him.  He laughed at the pancakes with fifteen candles with the one to grow on stuck in his eggs.  When Sam came in Dean waited until he put down the juice he was carrying to pull him into a bear hug.  “Thanks, Sammy.”

            “Happy Birthday.”  Sam whispered in a strangely familiar voice against his chest.

            _Huh?  Naaa_.

 

Sam's POV

             January 24, 1994

             He woke feeling his brother rutting against his leg.  _Uhg Dean, what time is it_? He peered at the clock grumbling when he saw it read only three am.  He quickly reached to the nightstand, grabbed a couple of Kleenexes, and wrapped them around the end of his brother’s dick.  Then he laid his head back down and smiled at the thought of how surprised Dean was gonna be at the birthday candles he snuck to put in his breakfast in the morning.  _I gotta remember to act like I don’t want to make breakfast or he’ll know I’m planning something_. When Dean came with a small growl Sam threw the wipes in the trash glad he had thought of doing this.  No more sleeping on a wet spot.  As he drifted back to sleep he wondered briefly about the funny feeling he always got low in his stomach when Dean rubbed against him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean’s 9th birthday  
   
   
* _thought_ *  
   
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
   
Sam's pov  
   
            January 24, 1988.  
   
            Sammy quickly and quietly got a bowl and spoon from the kitchen and snuck outside to fill the bowl with dirt he found a couple days before.  Even though Dean had told him over and over not to eat dirt, Sammy knew this was special dirt.  When he dug it up and saw the dark brown, so different from the red Georgia clay he was used to he showed it to his big brother he’d laughed and said it was chocolate earth.   
   
            Back in the kitchen he very carefully, with seriousness past his years, he separated the earth from rocks and twigs.  He made sure there was nothing but chocolate earth in the bowl before he added water and poured it into an old cake pan.  After what felt like forever to the anxious little boy, _gotta be done before Dean wakes up_ , the sludge dried enough for him to draw a squiggly D in it and pop it out of the pan.  Unknown to the boy the fact that it didn’t break was nothing short of miraculous.  
   
            His ‘baking’ done he ran to their bedroom and leapt onto his sleeping brother yelling, “Appy Birfday Dee!”  
   
            Dean rubbed his eyes, “What’re you doing up?  What’s wrong?  You okay?”   
   
            “It’s you’re Birfday Dee!”  Sammy pushed away the hands that were trying to check him for boo-boos.  
   
            “Aww, thanks Sammy.”

“Come on Dee, I made you a cake.”

Confused, “You did what?”

Beaming Sam grabbed his older brothers arm and dragged him to the kitchen.

“I made you a cake. See!” Sam proudly pointed to the 'cake' on the table.

“Sammy, what did you make this with?”

“The chocolate earth from the backyard.” When Dean didn't make a move to eat Sam's smile faded, “What's the matter, Dean? I thought you'd like it.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “Did I ruin your birfday?”

“Hey, no, little man,” Sam buried his face in Deans chest when his brother pulled him close. “You could never ruin my birthday. I just was, um, surprised. But I love it.”

“How do you know you haven't even tried it yet?”

Dean set Sam down in a chair, smiled at him, and wolfed down the cake.

“Wow, you really did like it! You want me to make more?” Sam eagerly offered bouncing in his chair.

“Make more what?” John ask entering the room.

“I made Dean a birfday cake with the special chocolate earth from the backyard. He really liked it.”

“Did he?” John smirked at his eldest. “Well be that as it may you can only make one cake per birthday,” at Sam's whine, “I mean it, Sammy. Now go play with your toys while I clean up in here.”

Sam hugged Dean tight before skipping from the room, certain he had made Dean's birthday perfect.

 

Dean's pov  
   
            January 24, 1988.

 

He jolted awake when a small body jumped on him. _Ow, my stomach, his elbow is so sharp. Sammy? Sammy okay?_

“It’s you’re Birfday Dee!”

“Aww, thanks Sammy.” He tried to ruffle Sam's hair but his brother grabbed his hands and tried to pull his big brother out of bed.

“Come on Dee, I made you a cake.”

That got Dean's attention, “You did what?”

He let himself be dragged to the kitchen where he was presented with a lump of dry dirt with a D on top. When Sammy started to cry at Dean's less than enthusiastic reaction he hugged his brother and reassured him that he loved the “cake”.

“How do you know you haven't even tried it yet?”

  
Looking at his brother's watery eyes Dean knew what he had to do. He set Sam down in a chair, smiled at him, steeled himself and wolfed down the cake. _Oh, god, humfp_.

“You want me to make more?”

Dean didn't know what to say, more to the point he was fighting hard to keep the cake down unable to answer.

“Make more what?” Dean was never so relieved to hear their fathers voice.

“I made Dean a birfday cake with the special chocolate earth from the backyard. He really liked it.”

“Did he?” John smirked at his eldest. “Well be that as it may you can only make one cake per birthday,” at Sam's whine, “I mean it, Sammy. Now go play with your toys while I clean up in here.”

It was only a moment before Dean ran to the bathroom.

John shook his head, rubbing his son's back, “Ah hell, boy. How much did you eat?”

“Sammy made me a cake, Dad. Didn't want to make him cry, I had to eat it.” Dean answered when he finished heaving.

“Damn, son you've got to learn to say no to the boy.” _Yeah, that'll happen._

“I'll work on it, sir.” Dean was lying through his teeth and they both knew it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam’s 12th birthday.  
   
* _thought_ *  
   
Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  
   
 Dean's pov

            May 2, 1995.  
   
            Looking down at his sleeping brother’s form Dean cursed himself for his unnatural feelings.  Sam had shot up an amazing eleven inches since last year and many nights had found Dean rubbing his legs to ease the growing pains.  When he realized how much he enjoyed rubbing his brother’s legs he immediately went into self flagellation mode.  _It’s sick, twisted, WRONG!!  He’s you’re baby brother!  He’s in pain and you get off on touching him.  How fucked are you that you catch yourself wishing he hadn’t stopped growing.  Not that he needs to get any damn taller; I mean he’s turning twelve and taller than me, for fuck’s sake._ Still he couldn’t stop his fingers from trailing over Sam’s skin reveling in the feel of baby soft hair at the back of Sammy’s neck.  
             
“Hmm,” his brother stirred under his touch.   
   
Quickly he pulled his hand away, not wanting to wake him and have to answer awkward questions.  His worry over waking Sam was rendered moot when his brother’s eyes snapped open and he gasp with pain.  
   
“Oww, Dean!  Hurts!”  Tears welled in Sammy’s eyes as he reached for his brother.   
   
“What hurts?  Your legs?”  Self-hatred momentarily forgotten with his need to do whatever it took to stop Sammy’s pain.  
   
“Uh-huh, can you rub ‘em.  I’m really sorry, I,”  
             
“Shut-up Sammy.  It’s alright to wake me you know that.  No matter what, you need me, I’m here.  You know that, right?”  He reassured his brother while kneading his sore thighs.  When he felt his dick twitch the loathing returned with a vengeance.  _Don’t get hard you sick fuck_.  He frantically thought about their most recent salt and burn of a corpse that had only been down about a year and the memory of the foul decayed stink was just enough to kill his erection.  
             
“Better yet, Sammy?”  He asks when he noticed his patient was nodding off.  
             
“Yeah, thanks,” came the mumbled reply as Sam curled against Dean, head under his big brother’s chin with a leg thrust between Dean’s thighs.  
             
_DAMN-IT SALT AND BURN SALT AND BURN!!_  
             
             
The next morning they were woke by their father to help him assemble the new bed he had gotten as Sam’s birthday present.  
             
“Twelve and sixteen is too old to still have to share a bed.  I’m sorry it took so long for me to notice how big you boys have gotten.”  John had told them when they protested the expense.  
             
Dean felt hot anger curl in his belly as he realize he had wasted his last night holding Sam making himself think about a hunt.  Resolutely he hoped that the separate beds would cure him of his feelings.  He forced a cheerful grin, thumped Sam’s back, and gave him the books his brother had been eyeing with a mutter of, “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have, you’re my brother.”  
             
That night Dean heard Sammy whimper his name and he shot across the room.  “What’s wrong?”  He worriedly ran his hands over his brother’s face and almost cursed when Sam said it was his legs.  _I know I’m a bad person for how I feel, but come on give me just a little break._  
             
When Sam complained about the separate beds Dean knew it was cause he was just nervous to be alone; so he made his reassurances very clear.   
             
“Don’t worry; even if we’re in separate rooms all you have to do is yell and I’ll come to you.”  _I’d come through hell for you_.  “It doesn’t matter where you are you need me I’m there.  You got it?”  He patted Sam’s legs before going to his bed.  When he heard his little brother whisper his love his cold bed suddenly felt warm again and his heart swelled as he whispered, “Yeah, I love you too, sasquatch.”  _I don’t deserve your love, but I need it anyway._

 

Sam's pov

            May 2, 1995.  
   
            Sam’s twelfth birthday started with pain.  
             
“Oww, Dean!  Hurts!”  He blindly reached for his brother secure in the knowledge that Dean would make it better.  
             
“What hurts?  Your legs?”  Dean’s response was immediate.  
             
Sam hated waking his brother, but nothing helped like Dean’s massages.  “Uh-hu, can you rub ‘em?  I’m really sorry, I,”  
             
“Shut-up Sammy.  It’s alright to wake me you know that.  No matter what, you need me, I’m here.  You know that right?”  
             
Sam nodded and let Dean’s hands relax his aching limbs.  Soon sleep started to pull him back under.  He barely heard Dean whisper, “Better yet, Sammy?”  
             
He mumbled an affirmative and burrowed into his big brother content that nothing could hurt him while he was in Dean’s arms.  
             
The next morning when their dad gave him his present he had to fake enthusiasm at the idea of sleeping away from Dean.  He inwardly winced when John said they were too old to share a bed.  _But what if something tries to get me?  What if my legs hurt?  If I’m not with him who is gonna Kleenex him when he dreams?_   His thoughts were broken by Dean hugging him and giving him several books that he knew Dean couldn’t have afforded.  He opened his mouth to protest when his brother cut him off with a muttered, “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have, you’re my brother.”   
   
That night after they went to bed Sam’s legs started hurting again and he whimpered for Dean.  His brother’s name had hardly left his lips before he was there, running his hands over Sam’s face whispering, “What’s wrong?”  
   
“My damn legs,” he groaned in frustration.  “Separate beds suck.”  He pouted as his brother rubbed his mutinous legs.  
   
“Don’t worry; even if we’re in separate rooms all you have to do is yell and I’ll come to you.  It doesn’t matter where you are you need me I’m there.  You got it?”  
   
“I love you big brother.”  Sam whispered as Dean went back to his bed.  
   
Dean chuckled from across the room. “Yeah, I love you too, sasquatch.”  
   
 His birthday ends with warm feelings of being loved.


End file.
